


A Picture Perfect Day

by ioanite



Category: Hilda the Plus-Size Pin-up Series - Duane Bryers
Genre: Animal POV, Fluff, Gen, Inspired by Art, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21946441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioanite/pseuds/ioanite
Summary: A snapshot of Hilda's life, told from the perspective of her dog.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	A Picture Perfect Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wiccy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiccy/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, Wiccy!

Patch wasn’t sure which woke him up first; a beam of sunlight hitting him in the face, or his owner’s cheerful voice. “Wake up, sleepyhead! We can’t waste a beautiful day like today!”

Patch obligingly got up, shaking himself and giving a “good morning” bark. Hilda beamed down at him, currently still wearing her filmy white nightgown and the slippers with the puffy balls that both Patch and Nell, the cat, liked to take turns “hunting” when Hilda wasn’t looking. “That’s the spirit!” she said, “I’ll fix us some breakfast, and then we’ll head out, okay?” Patch barked again and wagged his tail, and Hilda laughed musically before leading the way to the kitchen.

After putting down some fish for Nell and tongue for Patch, Hilda made tea, eggs, and bacon for herself (ignoring Patch’s pleading eyes and soft whines but “accidentally” letting some bits fall off her plate every few minutes) and read the paper. When she was finished, she looked down at Patch. “I think we’re going to go to the apple orchard today, Patch. The fruit looks like it’s ripe enough, and the more we can get picked, the better.”

That sounded just fine to Patch. The orchard was a good two miles away, meaning he’d have plenty of opportunities to find interesting things to smell, chase, or chew. And even if he couldn’t eat the apples, he knew they made Hilda happy, which was always a good thing. So he yipped his approval and trotted for the front door. “Not yet, Patch!” Hilda said with another laugh, “I need to get ready first. Besides, we’ll be going out the back door this time. Tell you what, I’ll let you out, but you have to promise to stay within the yard, okay? And don’t go near the daisies!”

Patch understood what that meant, and barked happily. Nell gave him a withering look and then went to go sun herself. Hilda just ruffled Patch’s ears, then got up and moved to the back door, Patch on her heels. “I’ll just be a few minutes,” she promised, opening the door, “Don’t get into too much trouble. Certainly not without me!”

Patch trotted outside, content to sniff the ground and mark his territory while he waited. He was in the process of barking at a squirrel running along the fence when he heard the door close and Hilda say teasingly “Be nice, Patch. The outdoors is his home, and we shouldn’t disturb him too much if he’s just trying to go about his business.” Patch gave one more bark just to encourage the squirrel to go about his business somewhere else, then trotted over to Hilda and sat down, waiting for her to make her outfit for the day.

For as long as Patch had been with Hilda, she had always preferred to keep as much skin exposed as possible. “Lets it breathe, you know.” she’d explain every spring. During the winter, she’d obligingly bundle up, particularly in her favorite pair of long underwear, but as soon as the weather was warm enough, she’d waste no time in throwing them off. While she had some short clothes, including some things she called “bikinis”, one of her favorite things to do was to use flowers, particularly daisies, as clothes. Her last set of daisies had started to wilt the day before, and since the apples were getting ripe and the tree leaves were changing color, Patch had assumed she wouldn’t be making any more this year. But it seemed like she was going to keep going as long as the flowers and the weather allowed her to, which Patch approved of, especially since sometimes the petals broke loose and he could chase after them and make Hilda laugh. Patch wasn’t sure if other humans were like Hilda when it came to clothes, but he hoped they were; clothes just seemed so restricting and more likely to make you unhappy. And everyone deserved to be happy like Hilda was.

It didn’t take long for Hilda to make the daisy chains, and before long, she’d hooked them around her body, stuck the leftovers into her straw hat, then picked up her basket. “Come on, Patch!” she said, opening the gate, “Those apples won’t pick themselves!”

Patch immediately bounded out into the open fields, jumping through the grass and barking for Hilda to follow him, which she did with a laugh that seemed to ring out through the clearing. After a bit, she called him back. “Come here, boy. I want to try something.”

Patch obligingly trotted over just in time to see her pull a weird stick out of her basket. “I got this last time I went to market,” she explained, holding it out for Patch to sniff, “The stall owner called it a boomerang. Says you’re supposed to throw it, and it comes right back to you. Figured I’d give it a try. But you _can’t_ run off to fetch it, all right? Be a good boy and stay.”

Patch gave a grumpy whine—what was the point of a stick if you couldn’t chase after it?—but obligingly sat down. Hilda patted his head, then stood up, pulled her arm back like she was about to toss a rock into the pond, and threw the boomerang. It sailed off, spinning around in circles, and then started to curve back towards them. Patch cocked his head curiously, and was able to see Hilda smile in satisfaction. Then her smile disappeared and she started running back the way they’d come. Patch looked up in time to see the boomerang coming back directly towards Hilda, and took off after her, hoping she wouldn’t get hit but also secretly delighted that he had an excuse to chase the “stick”.

The two of them ran for a few yards, and then Hilda tripped over a rock and landed in the grass, the boomerang sailing over her head. Instinct kicked in, and Patch continued to run after the boomerang until it finally hit the ground. Then he picked it up and came back to Hilda, feeling very pleased with himself. Hilda was still on the ground, though she’d pushed herself up and was resting her head on her hand, looking put out. Patch dropped the boomerang in front of her and sat down, tail wagging. Hilda looked from him to the boomerang, and after a moment, started to smile again. Then she chuckled, which quickly turned into one of her belly laughs. “Good boy, Patch,” she said, ruffling his ears, “Guess I needed you to fetch after all.”

She got to her feet and then sat down on the rock, brushing herself off. “Better check for damage. If you’re still in a mood to fetch, want to go bring me my hat?”

Patch barked and ran off to get it. When he returned, Hilda had straightened up and was adjusting her daisies. “Flowers have been depetaled a bit, but otherwise no harm done,” she said, taking the hat and clapping it on her head, “And the boomerang’s going straight into the kindling pile when we get home. Too much trouble, not enough fun.”

With that, she got up, picked up the boomerang, and went to get her basket. Patch followed after her, glad that she was all right and that the boomerang was going to go away. Sure, he’d managed to get some fun out of it, but a stick that came back on its own took all the fun out of things.

***

“That’s the last load for today, I think,” Hilda said, carefully making her way down the ladder, “It’s getting late, and I’d like to sort the pickings before bed. Come on, Patch, let’s go!”

Patch abandoned the apple he’d been playing with and moved to walk beside her. She looked out over the fields, their house a tiny dot in the distance, then grinned down at Patch. “Race you home, Patch!”

Patch barked excitedly and immediately started running. He vaulted over the orchard fence, Hilda right behind him. He could hear some soft thumps as apples flew out of Hilda’s basket and hit the ground, but if Hilda didn’t care, then neither did he. Patch ran full-tilt, gaining the lead, but gradually Hilda started to catch up. She always seemed to win their races, which wasn’t fair since she had only two legs, but that didn’t mean Patch wouldn’t give it his best effort. Maybe he’d win one of these days.

Just as Hilda drew level with him, Patch felt a drop of water land on his head. A few seconds later, another one hit his back. Looking upwards, he realized that the darker sky wasn’t just because it was getting late, but because it was starting to rain. Hilda must have realized the same thing, because she cried “Whoops!” and started running even faster, hand pressed firmly to her hat. Patch tried to keep up with her, but he was tuckered out from their race, and as the raindrops started to fall faster, he whined pitifully and reluctantly slowed to a trot. Hilda must have heard him, because she immediately turned around and came back to him, scooping him up and tucking him under her arm. “Hang on, Patch,” she said, “This may be a little bumpy.”

Patch wagged his tail weakly, content to let Hilda do the running for both of them. He was still getting wet, but at least he could catch his breath. While he panted, Hilda resumed her run towards the house. After a bit, he heard her panting too. “Sorry boy,” she said, “I need a bit of a rest myself. But at least we got pretty far.”

She slowed to a walk, trying to position Patch so he was shielded from the rain by her arm. It helped, but only a little. Then Hilda gestured with her other arm. “There. That seems like a good place to catch our breath.”

Patch lifted his head and saw that she was pointing to a large patch of daisies. It didn’t provide any cover from the rain, but then again, there weren’t any trees or better bits of shelter in sight. It would do, he supposed, as long as they only rested for a few minutes.

Hilda walked over to the daisies and sat down, setting Patch beside her. Patch shook himself, not that it did much good, and hunched down next to her. The rain wasn’t actually that bad—more of a light sprinkle than hard, fat drops—but he still didn’t like being wet. Hilda, on the other hand, lifted her head to the sky, seeming to enjoy the feel of the rain on her face. It seemed crazy to Patch, but then, humans were odd sometimes.

Then something large landed on top of him, obscuring his vision, and he yelped in surprise before finally picking up the smell of straw, daisies, and soap. “It’s okay, boy,” Hilda said, “It’s just my hat.”

Patch started trying to tuck his whole body underneath the little gap. He eventually managed it, though he had to poke his nose and front paws out to fit in his back end, so he wasn’t completely covered. It was better than the alternative, though, so he tried to keep his whining to a minimum. Hilda, meanwhile, was now humming to herself. Then she chuckled. “‘Singing in the rain’”, she said, before starting to sing. Patch was a little confused, but figured he’d let Hilda indulge her whim for a bit. If she took too long, though, he’d make his whining a little louder.

Hilda finished her song, laughed, then scooped up Patch and her hat (though she let him stay under it). “Don’t worry, Patch, we should be home soon,” she said, “Then I’ll dry you off and give you an extra treat for being patient. Sound good?”

Cold and wet as he was, that was enough to make Patch bark happily. “I thought so.” Hilda said with a smile, and then she was off running again.

***

Two hours later, Patch was sitting by the stove, finally dry and content (especially after eating the liver Hilda had given him), when Hilda came up to him, a lantern in her hand. “I’m going out for a bit, Patch. Want to join me? Maybe it’ll make that time we spent out in the rain worth it.”

Patch wasn’t so sure about that, but if Hilda thought it was worth it, then he might as well take a look. So he reluctantly got to his feet and trotted over to her. She smiled to him and led the way to the door, throwing it open with a flourish. “There. What do you think about _that_?”

Patch peered out the door, staring in amazement. The whole sky seemed to be glowing gold, which in turn made the meadow and the puddles left behind by the rain look gold as well. The whole world smelled different too, wet and earthy while still carrying the sweet scent of flowers. Patch had to admit that it was beautiful, but even if the rain really was responsible for all this, he’d still have been happier if he hadn’t been caught in it.

Then Hilda stepped out onto the grass, looking up at the sky. Her red hair caught the light and made it look like a flame, and her skin grew even rosier. She looked like one of those paintings in her art books, something heavenly, and Patch looked at her admiringly, tail wagging furiously. He wouldn’t trade Hilda for any other human, and right now, he was more sure of that than ever before.

Hilda pointed at something in the sky. “Look, Patch! It’s a dog chasing a rabbit!”

Patch looked up curiously, but didn’t see anything in the sky but clouds. He gave her a confused noise, and Hilda smiled and ruffled his ears. “Never mind, Patch. Just a silly thing we humans do. Besides, you probably wouldn’t find it as interesting as doing the real thing.” Patch wagged his tail in agreement, and she laughed. “Well, maybe tomorrow we can go down to the creek to do some fishing, and you can chase the frogs as long as you promise not to actually catch them.”

Patch liked the sound of that, especially since Hilda sometimes joined him in the chase. He barked in agreement, and Hilda gave him another pat before looking up at the sky again.

They spent a long time standing on the hill, Hilda admiring the view while Patch alternated between checking to see that Hilda was still happy and keeping a lookout for danger. Gradually, the colors faded from the sky, replaced with twinkling stars. As it started to get dark, Hilda lit her lantern, but otherwise remained where she was, gazing up at the sky. Whenever he looked at her, she had a sweet smile on her face, and every so often, she gave a contented sigh. Patch didn’t quite understand the appeal, but if she was enjoying herself, then that was all that really mattered.

It had just gotten dark enough that Patch couldn’t make out the fields anymore when Hilda swung the lantern in front of her. “Come on, Patch, let’s go inside before it starts getting too cold.” Patch obediently trotted after her, glancing up at the sky a few times as he did so. The stars _were_ kind of neat, like the way the sun sparkled on water sometimes. It was just a shame that they were just as impossible to catch as the water sparkles.

Once they were inside, Hilda swapped out her daisies for her nightgown, then sat by the stove and resumed her sorting of the apples they’d picked. Patch sat between her and the stove (Nell was by her feet, alternating between washing herself and playing with some string), and gradually, the warmth and the sound of Hilda murmuring “Sell…preserve…cook…keep…” was enough to lull him to a peaceful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> The pictures I used as inspiration, in order of "appearance";
> 
> https://static.boredpanda.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/plus-size-pinup-girl-hilda-duane-bryers-173.jpg
> 
> https://static.boredpanda.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/plus-size-pinup-girl-hilda-duane-bryers-141-58a178637c024__605.jpg
> 
> https://static.boredpanda.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/plus-size-pinup-girl-hilda-duane-bryers-52-58a1777a89256__605.jpg
> 
> https://static.boredpanda.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/plus-size-pinup-girl-hilda-duane-bryers-86-58a177d49dd9f__605.jpg
> 
> https://static.boredpanda.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/plus-size-pinup-girl-hilda-duane-bryers-70-58a177a9d2084__605.jpg
> 
> https://static.boredpanda.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/plus-size-pinup-girl-hilda-duane-bryers-27-58a1773899380__605.jpg


End file.
